


All The Things You Fear

by siberia_valentine



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - World War II, AruAni, F/M, Spies & Secret Agents, WWII AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberia_valentine/pseuds/siberia_valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1943. Annie Leonhardt has spent the past two years building a new life in Paris after being sent into the field on Germany's behalf. After receiving a message in the mail, her target has a name, a face: Armin Arlert. Seduction, she had decided. It was simple. He looked foolish enough. A pudgy American nose, unkempt hair, big and dopey blue eyes. He would be easy to fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Things You Fear

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm pulling this from my account on Tumblr, where I first received the WWII prompt, but I plan on trying to expand it in here. Hope you guys like it! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Annie had been living in in Paris since the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. It had been before that, really, but that was the milestone to mark her moving to the City of Love. 

She was from Germany, originally, one of the youngest to be used by the leaders of the Third Reich. She was only seventeen when she was relocated from her home with her father. The day that the Orpo had come to her door to inform her she was being called to the capital city, her father had wept. Not out of fear for his young daughter, or out of the knowledge that he would miss her. No, he wept in pride. His daughter was important, she was useful. 

Her French was perfect, or near perfect. Her father made her study day in and day out. Sometimes, she wouldn’t sleep or eat. But so long as she knew the difference between “ _verre_ " and " _ver_ ,” it didn’t matter.

She spent the time between 1941 and 1943 building a life for herself. She took art classes, she went out. She made an acquaintance or two. A string of lovers. She would cut out newspaper articles and place them in a scrapbook, stories about the war. It wasn’t until Germany had surrendered in Stalingrad, the second day in January in the year 1943, that she became important to her country once more.

“ _Armin Arlert_ ,” the letter had read, coded beyond the recognition of a civilian postman. “ _Rue de Grenelle_. _Engineer._ _Political Science Student. American_.  _Important information regarding our enemies. Extract information. Use any means necessary_.”

It was in retaliation to the downward spiral her country was facing. They needed more info, a larger upper-hand on the Allied Powers. Russia had made them shaky.

A photograph was attached. Annie examined it as she paced around her bed, lying clothes out over her blankets.

 _Seduction_ , she had decided. It was simple. He looked foolish enough. A pudgy American nose, unkempt hair, big and dopey blue eyes. He would be easy to fool.

That night, Annie barely slept.

She rose from her light slumber at four in the morning and took a bath. It was raining, pouring.

The girl pulled on black stockings and an olive dress, a black belt cinched at her waist. She tucked the photograph of Armin Arlert into a book, which she kept locked against her chest. 

Annie sighed at the rain as she stood underneath the awning of her apartment complex. 

 _An umbrella would have been nice_. 

As she ran through the rain, she shouldered by people. Faster and faster. Her heart thudded in her chest. She damned herself for her nerves; she had waited years to be called upon and she wasn’t about to go and fuck it up now.

As she made her way down the narrow street, the one inscribed on her note, she felt something hard meet her body. Hard yet soft. Malleable, maybe. 

She stumbled on her heels, almost careening into the wall of the university. 

"Oh! Geez, I-I’m sorry!" She felt a hand grip her arm. "Are you alright, miss?"

"I’m fine, I’m fine," she huffed, pushing her bangs out of her face. "Thank y—."

 _Fuck_.

The boy smiled, holding his umbrella out as she steadied herself. “I’m sorry again,” he chuckled, pink tinting his cheeks. “I really shouldn’t read and walk at the same time. I-I can’t tell you how many times this has happened to me….”

Annie floundered. The boy, the boy, he was in front of her.

_Armin Arlert. _Rue de Grenelle_. Engineer.  _Political Science Student. American_.  _Important information regarding our enemies. Extract information. Use any means necessary.__

The smile faded from Armin’s face as Annie stared dumbly at him. “Are you okay?”

"Y-yes, yes, I’m fine," she huffed.

Armin nodded, adjusting the books in his arm. “May I ask where a pretty lady is running off to so early in the morning?”

"Uh, nowhere, really." She shook her head, looking back down the street. "I was just…uh, coming from…."

_Shit, think of something! Don’t let your country down!_

"I was running from a boyfriend of mine," she spat out. "Terrible man, really. I couldn’t get away fast enough."

"Boyfriend?" he inquired.

"Uh, e-ex-boyfriend…."

"Complicated?"

"Getting drunk and accidentally spending the night isn’t complicated," she lied. "Just dumb."

"Hm." Armin nodded, a smile on his face.

"What brings a boy like you out here so early?"

"A boy like me?"

"Bookish."

"Ah," Armin smiled. He held his books out to her. They were thin and bound in leather, each with gold lettering. "Just coming from the university library."

"You mean going to?" Annie corrected absently, leafing through one of his texts. 

"Uh-uh.  _Leaving_. I stayed all night.”

Annie shut the book tight. “You must be exhausted.”

"Starved, actually."

They stood together under his red umbrella, under the pitter-patter of the early spring rain. 

"Well, if you’re hungry," Annie began, "I haven’t eaten yet myself. Care to get something to eat?"

"Sure," Armin nodded, a dopey grin on his face. "My classes don’t start for hours."

They began their walk down the street. Annie pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Cold?" Armin asked.

"No."

Silence. Heels clicking. Falling rain.

"S-so, I didn’t catch your name, miss," Armin stated. "What is it?"

"It’s Louise."

"Ah, Louise. That’s a lovely name."

"Thank you. And yours is…?"

"Philip."

"Just Philip?"

"Just Philip. As long as you’re just Louise."

Annie nodded.  _Fake name_. 

The two sat themselves at a small café, at perched seats by the windows. They quizzed each other, getting to know one another. Where are you from? What color do you like? What are you doing with your life?

He told her he was studying to be an engineer. She told him she was taking a year off, forgetting school and letting life lead her wherever.

"Do you have a job?"

"Not at the moment," Annie informed him, sipping from a warm cup of vanilla coffee. "I’ve saved up for quite a while, so I’m good until next year at the least."

"That’s impressive," Armin commented. "I’ve been working my way through school, mostly grunt work and waitering. Nothing glamorous."

"And what do you do when you aren’t working or pulling all-nighter at the library?"

"You mean, what do I like to do for fun?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Read, mostly."

"Surprise, surprise."

"Oh," Armin scoffed, laying his hand on the table. "And what do  _you_  do for fun, Miss-My-Hobbies-Are-More-Interesting-Than-Yours?”

Annie smiled.

"Finally."

"Finally what?"

"You’ve smiled. It’s taken nearly two hours, but you’ve finally done it."

Annie clamped her mouth shut.

"Don’t do that," Armin tutted. "You’ve got a pretty smile."

"Ha," Annie jeered. "You’re funny."

"I’m serious."

"My nose scrunches. It’s too big."

"I think it’s just fine."

"That’s awful kind of you." They sat in silence and Annie rolled her shoulders, looking out the window. "I draw in my spare time."

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes. I like to nap, too. And walk around the city." She shrugged. "Whatever."

"Go out with friends?"

"I don’t have very many of those."

Armin paused. “Could you draw me?”

"Eh?"

"Could you draw me? For me?" He slid a napkin across the table, pulling a pencil from between one of his books. 

"Uh, I’d rather not."

"Please?"

Annie paused a moment, and looked into those wide, dumb American eyes.  _Idiot_. 

"Fine," she relented harshly, grabbing the pencil from him. He snickered into his hand as she examined him.

Hey eyes traced his nose. It had been pudgy in the photograph, but in real-life, it was more of a button, one that begged to be poked. His cheeks were tinted a soft pink, his jaw was stronger than she remembered. And his eyes…dumb and big and foreign and friendly. 

"You’re blushing."

"Wha—no, I’m not," Annie grumbled, looking down at the napkin, beginning to sketch the face of the enemy.

"I think you are."

"I think you’re seeing things."

"Okay," he nodded, sitting back in his seat. There was a silence and Annie looked up from her napkin, to reference his face. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"L-like what?" Armin stammered.

"I don’t know." Annie swallowed her annoyance.

_Ugh, why the hell does he make me so angry. I feel like I want to just reach over the table and put this fork in his face. Or better yet, slap him with my letter from the Reich. And why the hell does he speak perfect French? What the hell else is up this goofball’s sleeve. Idiot…._

"You’re concentrating awful hard…."

"So what if I am?" Annie snapped.

"I-I’m sorry, Louise," Armin apologized, a kind smile on his face. "I don’t mean to be a bother. If you’d like me to go, I-I will."

"No," Annie shook her head, turning back to her napkin. "I like you."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Armin laughed nervously. “You…have a funny way of showing it.”

"I am funny."

Armin’s laugh startled Annie as it rippled through the café, through her body. She stared at him, mouth open, eyes wide. 

He threw a hand over his mouth, kind eyes glowing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was…that was…the way you said it was perfectly phrased.”

Annie suppressed a smile. As much of an idiot as he was, the smile was genuine. And that both terrified her and pissed her off. 

"Have you finished yet?" he asked, pointing to her drawing.

"Almost." She added the finishing touches before wordlessly sliding the doodle to him. His face lit up at the sight of it. Annie looked away. "It’s just a sketch."

"Louise, it’s amazing!" he complimented. 

"It’s just a sketch."

"It’s still amazing," he insisted. Armin pulled a pocket watch from his pants, staring at the thin hands and Roman numerals. "I have to head off," he stated, standing up. "But, do you have a telephone? I’d…I’d love to r-ring you sometimes, if you don’t mind." 

Annie watched him fiddle with the pencil. 

 _Is he…is he nervous_?

"Oh, y-yes," she nodded, tugging the napkin from his hand. 

 _Now’s your chance to recover from that nasty, clumsy first impression_.

She scribbled her phone number in the corner, along with the name  _"Louise_.” Before handing it to him, she pressed the napkin to her lips, leaving behind a soft red lip-print. 

Armin’s face flooded with heat as he took it, staring at the lipstick stain. 

"R-right, well," he nodded at the number, the lips she had given to him. "I’ll call."

"Good," she purred, crossing her legs. 

He backed away, waving his fingers, bumping into an empty chair. The student laughed nervously, reaching for the door, his exit swift. 

 _Damn, he’s clumsy_ , Annie thought to herself, pressing her lips to her mug.

She nearly spat the coffee back into her cup.

 _And he left me with the bill_. 

 


End file.
